


Trust me now

by meinposhbastard



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Post-Season 4, Spoilers for all seasons, Team Voltron Family, except s5 and s6, meta-ish (based on meta anyway)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 04:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/pseuds/meinposhbastard
Summary: Will the team realize how important the Heart is to their well-being before it's too late?





	Trust me now

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on the [meta](http://radioactivesupersonic.tumblr.com/post/170739071760/a-question-about-your-lance-meta-you-keep/) on the roles each member of the team has and how important the Heart is. This idea pestered me last night, fell asleep with the last line of Lance's first monologue to the team.
> 
> Other warnings that might trigger you: I deal with a break down and feelings of worthlessness and crying in this fic. It's not a sunshine, but the bright side is that the team tries to be supportive and it's there, always.
> 
> Titled is inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ip2eRU737zU/)
> 
> Also, there's not much of a plot, I just wanted to do 3 things with this pipsqueak of a fic: 1) somehow illustrate the meta and give the Heart spotlight or, if not, open acknowledgement of its importance from the people that counts; 2) a sort of therapeutic journey for my own dark thoughts during those dark hours in a human's life; 3) just wanted to have the team be supportive of each other and show the strong bond they have. I love them.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. It does have a happy ending.

 

 

***

"No matter what I do, it's never enough, is it? You won't listen to me, anyway, because you never really did."

This is what all their time together has come to mean. A huge-ass, stupid fight in which nobody listens to anybody, least of all Lance. How _wonderful_ it is to realize that your words are unable to reach the others.

He raises his voice. He wouldn’t need to, if they weren’t so caught up in their own problems to listen to what others have to say.

“ _Enough!_ ” Lance looks each of his ‘friends’ in their eyes; each one. Lance rides on the stunned silence, continues, "I know that I'm not good enough, that I'm not as strong and smart as Hunk and Pidge or have the guts to be a leader or his right hand or have royal blood running in my veins or be there and say all the right words. I'm not any of that. I'm just me. I try to do my best, but I realized my best is not enough for you. No matter how much I try, I never seem to get things right. And you're so damn caught in your own problems that you can't see— can't…"

A forceful exhale; determination marring his features to not break.

"So…" he starts, stops, swallows; then with vindictive anger that feels like tearing apart a good material, "so you don't get to see me when I break down. You lost that privilege!"

And among the stunned, still angry group who do you think emerges with an exaggerated expression of worry on his face? Shiro. No restraint, no reserve, just pure pain and panic, hurrying to catch Lance.

And after a few moments he does reach Lance, does catch his arm — doesn't speak a word. But it's enough; his face says it all. The depth of his terror drowning in his eyes. The filling tears in Lance's, the breath that's coming too fast, too soon. This shouldn't be the place he breaks down. Not here. Not with them. They don't deserve it.

He can't speak, either. Shiro doesn't need his words to understand, though. Lance shakes his head and pulls his arm from Shiro’s grip to hurry back to his room.

No one comes after him this time and he shatters in the middle of his room like a twig that's withstood the harsh wind for too long.

He lets go of his smiles and jokes.

Lets them all float away into the gaping maw that swallows him whole.

It's not like anybody cares, anyway.

 

***

It feels like days until the first series of knocks disturb his buzzing mind. How much more devastating it is to feel and hear this much silence around him, this much — solitude. Self-imposed solitude. He still has the urge to cry every two minutes — less if certain memories run amok in his head. Right now, though, right now he feels more or less stable (after the last crying session).

"Lance, please," Shiro's voice filters weakly through the door, the same way a small and lost child’s would.

What does this say about him? The man who always shines with a brightness and confidence that makes the weakest person want to give their best for him.

He feels numb to the plea in Shiro's voice; he might have had a break down of his own since the last time they saw each other, the logical part of his brain whispers, but he's been disconnected from feeling anything for a while now.

Shiro's plea falls on a deaf heart.

"Lance. Please open the door."

His mind screams _no_ , his muscles twitch once in a prelude to movement, to a jumping out of the fort of covers he built around himself. Here he feels safe, protected, away from the team's problems, from his own inner maelstrom, from everything. This suspension feels good — stable.

He closes his eyes, a reprieve from the dim light in the room.

"Lance!" The tone becomes desperate when the error beep of his room's pad denies Shiro entry.

He disabled the motion sensors fast after his first break down and changed the code (how he saw Pidge do it once) to recognize his palm only. Now, he's aware that Pidge could easily revert this, but she wouldn't do it. Not if — if they truly start to understand why he does this. Why he needs to do this.

Minutes pass and no sound comes from beyond his door. He burrows deeper into his blankets. Shiro's gone.

He's alone once again.

This is good.

The numbness persists.

This is so good — he feels whole again. His own person reflected in broken pieces of glass.

 

***

He knows his team.

Each individual like the back of his palm.

That's what he naturally does: gets to know his friends, pays attention to their needs, their sorrows and pains, the little details that don’t make it to the spotlight, but form the bigger picture, tries to be there as much as he can, breaks apart silently when an element of his team is not well or disturbs the balance within.

He also knows that the next in line to bother him will be Keith — and there he is with his harsh comments and impatient manner of speaking as if he couldn’t possibly talk to a more dimwitted person than Lance. Keith has no reason to be patient with Lance. After all, Lance hasn't been anything but antagonistic to him since the very beginning. He did it on purpose for a while, but then he realized that the reason behind this behavior ran deeper than that. Keith is a volatile element, prey to his emotions. For a guy who's silent most of the time and tries to hide his feelings as often as possible (expect when it's Shiro), he has no restraint of mind to control his outbursts of anger and spitefulness.

He got them into trouble when Shiro disappeared — not long ago. He made every possible bad decision a leader could make.

Why does this team need him? What's his purpose in all this equation? How can the well-being of the team benefit from this erratic behavior? If nothing else, he's the ticking bomb waiting to go off.

These were the kind of thoughts that ran through his head back then, which took him to antagonize Keith and make the team see what he had seen in him.

But he had been wrong.

It took him a while to see past Keith's front. He's an element that's just as important to the team as Shiro is.

Lance had to pilot Red to finally understand him (and pull his own head out of his ass and his desire to be that successful team member who everyone adores).

During that time that Keith was their leader and after this big realization — he felt completely connected to the team in a way that he's never experienced before. He felt like he belonged, like this was what he was meant to do within the team.

But then Shiro came back and Keith became a part-timer at the Blade.

No, scratch that.

A part-timer in Team Voltron.

"Goddammit, Lance," Keith's frustration floods his room.

He opens his eyes a slit. The room is wobbly and it doesn't want to come into focus. He feels so tired all of a sudden, so tired he could sleep a year.

The last words he hears through a thick fog are, "stop brooding by yourself and come out already!", but they sound so distorted and faraway that they don't register in his mind as more than distant memories of tempest winds brewing into the distance.

 

***

Groggily, he emerges from under his blankets, the room suffused into the same dim light as when he fell asleep. He isn't sure how much he slept or what woke him up, but he doesn't feel better.

Sleep is supposed to erase the mood, the thoughts, the suffering, doesn't it?

It didn't work with him.

He feels as miserable as before — if not even more.

"Lance, please come out," Pidge's voice comes, a little high-pitched with worry.

It’s something that stirs Lance's instincts to go and offer her all the comfort she needs because she deserves it — and more. She's the only one in the entire team who Lance always wanted to protect and always felt like they had a connection from the get-go.

"The team is worried about you. I'm worried about you because this is not like you."

A weak smile crests the lifeless line of his mouth for a short while. _What do you know what's like me?_ he wants to ask, but has no energy to even open his eyes more than a slit, enough to see his surroundings and close back again, let alone form words.

"Come on, Lance. We both know that I can disable your pad in two seconds."

 _But you won't_ , he thinks, because he knows she understands. Maybe not all of it, but she's learned to trust her instincts after the episode with the Olkari people.

A soft thud.

"We had a mission on this planet the other day — by the way, you're holed up in there since two days ago, not counting this one, if you were wondering —"

_I wasn't, but thanks for telling me. Now I feel better knowing I haven't eaten in two days. It's good for my skin and those abs that were starting to plump up._

"And we encountered this mega-evolved race. Very arrogant. A guy half my size insulted my computer skills, would you believe it?"

_I'm sure you gave him a piece of your mind._

"So guess what? After I told him the many computational errors their defense system had, hacked into it, made their sentinels decorate their palace in horrendous colors and put all kinds of girly decorations — I mean, I even made them dress the royals, imagine the outrage among those pompous gits when the sentinels wouldn't listen to their orders — I demanded he gave us their Quintessence-capsule device after which we came (and which they agreed to give to us) to return the whole system back into their hands."

_That's my girl!_

He tried to smile again, another feeble thing that was gone the next second, melting like a snowflake in his palm.

"It was worth every word of reprimand from Allura, afterwards. Seems we were in the middle of diplomatic talks with them for more than that capsule — and I kinda ruined that."

_Doesn't matter. You don't bow to anyone who belittles your awesome skills and mind. That's how it should be. And the others need to understand this._

He wants to ask what the others said about this, if anybody took her side while Allura tried to do the mother-princess stuff she usually did and never succeeded to be conducive to the team’s good mood.

"But Shiro told me afterwards that I did good to stand up for myself. Hunk took my side with those dimwits and with Allura. Keith was his usual silent self when Allura went off. Oh, before you get angry at him, we split up to take care of two sides of the same mission. Me and Hunk got to deal with the conceited personality of these gnomes and Shiro and Keith got to kick some ass on the other side of the planet."

It isn't quite enough to calm the fizz of emotions that springs forth within him, but it’s enough to appease his protective nature. At least Hunk stood by her, no matter who was before them. That counts for something.

"But we felt your absence. Keith got hurt in the melee from an above shot."

Lance's fingers twitched, the phantom feel of his rifle just a memory. He closed his eyes and slipped deeper in his cocoon, away from the guilt and desire to turn back in time and be there to save Keith from that shot. To _whoop_ in the coms and get into another snippy fight of comebacks with him because that's how their relationship worked. They were always trying to one-up each other — or maybe that’s just Lance and his usual display of ego, of desire to be in the spotlight, to be _it_ for everybody.

Preposterous, he knows. He's all too aware of that.

"Shiro told me that he spit angry remarks at you for not being there to save him from that shot."

The guilt grabs his drowning body, envelops him with determination and suffocates what little is left of his self-esteem. He can't do even this. He can't even be there when they need him. What kind of a friend is he? What kind of a team member?

"But that's just Keith. You know how he is. Throws hurtful words left and right and then he feels guilty. He doesn't apologizes — and I secretly think that if he did, it would be so out of character that we'd strap him to a chair and demand he tell us where the real Keith is."

A half-snort from beyond the closed door.

Lance tries to find it in himself to smile.

He can't.

"But I'm sure he does that with Shiro— when they're alone. Sometimes it feels like those two are capable of being honest — truly honest — only with each other when we’re not around."

Lance's hands find fists of material which he crushes mercilessly.

"It's not fair towards us. We're supposed to be a team, right? Team members help each other out, but they already form a team of their own, and then you told us that we don't deserve to see—" A long exhale, a wet hiccup, then a voice that shatters Lance on the inside once again. "I— it— it feels like the team is falling apart."

Tears fill his vision and his air-paths clog within seconds.

"We need you to joke around when things get serious, to make us angry at you for it, to be hyped about a plan that sounds crazy to Hunk, to lighten the mood, to take our minds off our own problems — make us part of the team again. Please, Lance."

He gathers himself into a foetal position lest all the hurt and quiet desperation and silent calls for help when he was starting to shut down be let out and she'll hear — and she'll really end up overriding the system.

He doesn't want her to see him like this — pathetic, worthless, a piece of a walking disaster and non-accomplishments — although, maybe, she's the only one that deserves to see him in this state and understand and not question him and _not tell him that everything will be all right because nothing will ever be all right, not with the Galra Empire still hunting their asses, not with their problems that constantly threaten the balance of the team, not with him and his— his— insignificance._

He doesn't say anything and Pidge leaves after a while.

The thought of her leaving with a tear-streaked face, once again betrayed by a team member renews the wave of tears and he sobs as quietly as he can until, once again, he falls asleep.

 

***

It can't be much longer after that that he's awaken by two knocks, determined, but not harsh.

"Hey, man, it's Hunk here if," — he gives a weak laugh — "if you were wondering. I mean, well, you've been in there for a while and all of us are worried about you. You didn't come to eat in two days, which, yeah, it's awesome if that's something that you've always wanted to do, you know, see how much of your body weight you lose if you go on strike for two days in a row."

A pause. Lance waits, almost falls back asleep.

"I'm sure you're weak by now.” Hunk continues. “I mean, you can't not be after suddenly stopping from regularly supplying your body with sustenance, so I made you a dish from a couple of alien ingredients. Now, don't be scared, it's safe to eat for humans. I personally tested it, and then I made it for the others. Granted, they were kinda reticent at first, but after tasting it even Keith complimented it, so I deemed it safe for you to eat. Also, it's high in protein and vitamins which, I take it, your body misses and it's running on its reserves, which aren't much since you're so — well, thin. You have a high metabolism, and it's good, but not when you stop eating. So, please? Can you find the strength to come and open the door so I can give you food?"

Silence.

Lance is wide awake. Even with the door closed, the waft of lasagna and chicken and cheese and a bit of eggs filters in and his stomach stirs to life. It doesn't growl, no. It's more of that painful kind of hunger that makes you feel sick and like you're either going to throw up or faint.

"Come on, man. I mean, it's true that Shiro told us to give you some time to sort things out, but it's not looking like you want to come out soon. Pidge is distraught ever since she came this morning to talk to you. She won't speak to anyone, not even to me. Keith is mostly with the Blade now and Shiro spends a lot of time in the gym setting the levels to almost impossible to defeat. Allura had to override the system yesterday to get into the gym before the ‘bot inflicted serious damage to his unconscious body. Seriously, man, the team is not whole without you."

_How was it whole when I was out there? You still fought with each other, still left the team or threatened to. How am I able to glue you together? I'm nothing special. I'm not smart and strong like you or can hack every system in the universe like Pidge or use strategy to complete the missions and keep the team safe like Shiro or be unpredictable and successful in dire situation like Keith. What am I? Just the clown of the team, useful to lighten the mood and make inappropriate jokes at inopportune times and places._

"Please, man. At least eat something, if you don't come out. Look, I'm gonna leave the plate here." A slight thunk. "And will come back later, okay? Just eat, okay? If you don't want to do it for you, at least do it for me? You know how much I like to make food and you haven't tried this dish, so be the last one to try it out? It's okay if you don't give me any opinion on it, but at least eat, okay?"

_That's emotional manipulation. Didn't know you had it in you, Hunk._

Now he's sitting in his bed, head turned towards the door, blankets pooled around him. The room's chiller than before, the floor cold when his bare feet touch it. The door is even colder under his hot cheek. No movement outside. But Hunk could still be there, standing still in wait for Lance to open the door.

No.

That's not what Hunk would do. He respects other people's boundaries and personal space. He wouldn't do that to Lance.

He sets the door to open only half a forearm width and when no smiling face appears, he slips down on his hunches and slides in the plate with food. The door closes and before his taste buds come fully alive, already half of the plate is wolfed down. Tears streak his face at the sheer deliciousness of it, the slow explosion of flavors, both familiar and alien. Oh, how he missed Hunk's dishes — even the bad ones, which this certainly isn’t.

He writes a note and slides the plate back outside, returning to his bed to nurse the stomachache summoned by all that good food.

It's maybe ten minutes later or half an hour or even just a minute that he opens his eyes again to a snort, followed by a chuckle outside.

"'Bit too salty'?" Hunk laughs. "I'll try to ease on salt next time." Pause. "Thanks, man. I'm— I mean, we're worried about you. You should come out and talk to us. I know we're not good on sharing our personal demons with each other, but we can try? I mean, I want to try. And this break down you talked about, the one you wouldn't let us be a part of, and then your absence? I think it made us realize how much we still have to work on the whole 'team' idea. Shiro talked to Kolivan this morning and told him to put on hold the missions involving Keith and send him back here so that we can work on being a team again."

_I don't think it's gonna be that easy, if Keith doesn't want to be here. And he doesn't._

"Keith's coming back tomorrow. Maybe you could come out and talk to us? I promise you we'll all try to understand you and be honest with what troubles us, too."

Lance turns away from the door, closing his eyes and letting himself fall back into unconsciousness.

 

***

"Lance?"

It's a strange voice that calls his name.

"Lance, are you there?"

He opens his eyes a crack. No, still in his room. Still the dim light. He burrows his nose into the blanket.

"Lance, please come out. You have the team worried for your well-being."

It's Allura. He stands to attention — still with eyes closed, still protected by the blankets.

"We scheduled a team meeting in a varga, and we'd like you to be present since this meeting is about you, after all."

_You did that without asking me if I want to be a part of that. First, learn to really talk to each other._

"Lance, don't shut us out. We're supposed to be a team, remember? This team cannot function with a missing member."

_It's doing well from what I heard. Even went on missions. They'll get used to not have someone guarding their backs. They'll learn to guard them themselves. I'm sure._

"The team needs you, Lance. We cannot defeat Zarkon and his troops without you. I cannot pilot Blue forever. You need me here in the castle to offer you backup."

Lance wants to snort, but even after Hunk's meal, he still feels weak.

Blue.

_Yeah, even my own Lion threw me out. Red is not the same as Blue. He's just not the same._

"Please come to the meeting. We need to sort this out before it destroys the team further."

_It's always needneedneed with you. It's never 'I understand' or 'it's okay' or 'you'll do better next time'. It's always be stronger, faster, smarter, defeat the troops, defeat Zarkon, defeat the entire universe. When is it about being weak, feeling worthless, powerless, defenseless, raw like an unprotected nerve? When is it about us, teenagers thrown into a world of war and deceit and lies? I never asked for this. Never wanted to have the universe on my shoulders with all its responsibilities and failures. I was supposed to be just a space cadet, working my way up in the hierarchy. Not pilot a Lion. Not forming Voltron. Not dealing with all your problems that caused me this break down. I can't do this anymore. I can't. I just can't._

The warm wetness of his pillow jars him from his thoughts in time to catch the sigh.

"We'll be waiting for you in the common room. I'll have Coran come and remind you of the meeting ten quintents to the established varga. Just — come, okay? We miss you."

He doesn't sleep this time. Doesn't feel the need to. He's more awake than ever.

But he cries. Oh, does he cry. Big, fat tears and snot and ugly sobs and his insides tear apart anew. It hurts so much to crave to be liked by people and realize that no matter how much you twist and turn yourself to please them, to make them feel better about themselves, it's never going to be enough, they'll never look like they're content with you.

They never told him 'Lance, we know you did everything possible and impossible to make this team function. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. It's okay. It's enough. You don't need to drag yourself through the dirt for us anymore, don't bottle up your feelings just so that we can be allowed to express ours. It's time for you to lean on us. Let it all out. We're here for you and we won't judge. You deserve this'.

What does all this say about him? Who is he in the team? He's certainly not Hunk or Pidge or Keith or Shiro or Allura or Coran. He's neither of them — and yet, he feels like he’s all of them at the same time.

What's his role?

Why can't he find one that he fits in?

The blankets lie cold in disarray on the bed. His palm opens the door and his eyes meet Coran's, hand raised at chest level, intent on knocking.

"Oh, Lance, good morning, lad. You look— well, you've looked better."

"I'm ready, Coran," Lance says and it's rougher than rocks and sandpaper having a grinding match.

"Good, we're expecting you. Follow me."

The lights in the hallway are harsh to his dry eyes, most probably red-rimmed and puffy from crying so much. He blows his nose in the tissue he took with him and prepares himself for meeting his team.

They're all there, sitting on the round couch with Shiro and Allura directly in front of him.

"Lance!" Pidge and Hunk say at once, surprise marring their young faces.

It feels like coming home to little brothers and sisters after a long day out and about.

"We are glad that you joined us, Lance," Allura interjects, her small, genuine smile adorning her lips.

"We really are," says Shiro. "We felt your absence."

"Are you okay?" Keith asks, the only one who doesn't show any kind of expression on his face, but who conveys everything he needs to through his tone of voice and the simple question.

"I'm here." It's all Lance manages to say, gears warming up.

He looks at each of them, takes notice of the signs his absence left behind on their faces, feels the guilt stirring once again and stomps on it with determination.

"So I've been thinking and overthinking these past few days about the team and what's not working with it, which is how the things are right now. If we want to really be a team, we need to learn how to rely on each other when we need it." His breathing comes fast, like he's been running to reach this place. "The way you showed me that you can during my— absence. And I thank all of you for not giving up on me even when I— gave up on myself. I was just— well, trying to find out what my role is in the team and—"

"You're what glues us together," Keith throws as if it's old news.

"Yes, Lance," Shiro acquiesces. "We all have our unique qualities that contribute to the team, be it brains or brawn or tactical strategies, but you— you take care of our emotional well-being. You listen to us and take notice of our problems even when you don't show it or we're not aware of having a problem. You hold and take care of the team's pulse."

Lance's eyes could compete with Hunk's plates in size.

"Wait, what? You knew that and you didn't tell me?" The sheer shock gets rid of the rough texture of his voice.

"We thought you knew that," Pidge says, and they all agree non-verbally.

“Still,” Shiro adds. “We apologize for not realizing that you were close to breaking down. And all because of us. We should have paid more attention to your own needs and problems and not be content with your usual brush-offs. So we all agreed that the team needs a fresh start over. Do you want to join us?”

Dumbfounded, Lance manages only a nod.

After that shocking revelation everything comes more easily. They all take turns to talk openly about what each one's needs are, how they function, when they should push or not, what's not working with the team from their perspective. All in all, the meeting turns out to be the most honest and productive gathering they've had so far. Allura finally understands their differences and apologizes for being so harsh on them back then at the beginning when they didn't even know they could form Voltron, and even Keith shares more of himself with them in five minutes than he did during the whole time they became a team.

And Lance — Lance slurps on the protein smoothie Hunk prepared for him (the others had various other drinks) assured in the knowledge that he not only realized what his crucial role in the team was, but also managed to have his friends establish an open connection with each other.

There's nowhere in the entire universe he'd like to be right now than right here and now, among his best friends.


End file.
